


In Which There Are No Dragons But Hiccup Does Some Quality Riding

by Righ (Venenum)



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (2010), Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, PWP, hiccup in leathers wow yes pls, idek guys, jack is a spoiled little bastard, srsly, yeah have some frottage and handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-22
Updated: 2013-04-22
Packaged: 2017-12-09 04:41:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/770089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Venenum/pseuds/Righ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PWP. For Hazel, because reasons.</p><p>There's also a playlist to go with this: http://8tracks.com/thewinter/you-got-taller</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Which There Are No Dragons But Hiccup Does Some Quality Riding

Saturday. The third official date in two weeks. Four hours in, a gigantic pizza consumed and one belt thumping onto the lounge carpet.

Ten years of being friends continued to turn into something more.

Jack bit his lip to unsuccessfully hold in a lewd moan as warm hands dragged open his corduroy pants, a calloused palm stuffing down the maw to stroke him through damp-spotted underwear. He rather liked those old pants, worn in and cut off with scissors below the knee a few years ago, most of the soft threads rubbed away off the ass and shins, the thin material conforming to his long legs like a second skin. Not that he minded them being treated a little roughly when in return he got a tongue shoved down his throat and a fist balled in his t-shirt in return. Not when verdant eyes met his own bright blue (gorgeous, yes, _You always loved mine, I know you did_ ) and lashes fluttered over starved whispers of _You feel so good_.

Hiccup wasn't exactly the most practiced kisser, but he fell into Jack's guiding rhythm as they made out on the latter's ancient sofa to the muted, flickering display of the television. His cock was hard and it ground with delicious friction through dated leathers into the groove of Jack's hip, trying to imitate how he would have otherwise been fucking him into the furniture. It wasn't going to happen then and there. Turned-on as he was, Jack put a lot of value on having safe, comfortable fun (especially of the sexual variety) and the lube was all the way back in the bedroom. True, they didn't have far to walk, but he highly doubted the brunette currently sucking his way down a pale throat would acquiesce to change the scenery any time soon.

"Oh, God," panted Jack, head tipped back as fingers peeled under the elastic of his boxers to tease a weeping slit, back and forth like Hiccup couldn't even _hear_ the thin noises he was evoking. Breathing became a labour. He cracked open an eye to get a look at the smug man stretched out over him with more predatory grace than anyone with a missing foot should have owned. 

Hiccup was balance and precision, much more so since he had matured in the past five years, knowing exactly how to compensate for the prosthetic abandoned under the messy coffee table. He was, from the stubble perpetually rasping over Jack's softer skin to the lush auburn hair tousled in a dozen directions, _very Goddamned fuckable._

Jack craned up to lick those parted lips, tasted the smoothness of buck-teeth beyond and was denied when the couch mutinously swallowed up his shoulders, pulling him back down.

"I'm barely even touching you," Hiccup murmured, a complete traitor and entirely unfair when he stroked, pulling keening moans free as Jack arched the best he could, already slick with precome and sweat. The combined weight of both men gave Hiccup a very clear advantage. He leaned down to mollify Jack with a kiss, a whimper given up when clever fingers twisted and tightened from root to tip. Hiccup's voice was low and rough, hot breaths painting intimately over swollen pink lips when he wasn't nipping them. 

"Do you want me to fuck you, Jack? Spread you on your back and let me see you dance on my fingers, get your hips shaking with the effort of keeping them in?"

"Hiccup, please." He was burning up, panting as he turned his head to drag down a breath. Lips chased Jack's temple, mouthing at the sensitive skin behind an ear and his entire world narrowed down to strong wiry arms encasing him between cushioning and the edge of the couch. Rutting into a ridiculously good hand-job, his heels dug into the couch and he found himself writhing, trying to imitate Hiccup's words. "Yes, please, _yes_. I want it, give it to me —"

"You're so demanding."

"I don't care, just keep talking, please, _please_."

"Fuck," Hiccup swore, pushing his face into Jack's neck; Jack felt the dick trapped against his thigh twitch and more kisses smother his rapid pulse. "When was the last time you —?"

He rolled his eyes, nails unhooking from under shoulder-blades to roam down a lithe body and ferret their way under a cardigan-topped t-shirt. Hiccup exhaled slowly, squeezing Jack's cock in reward when a grazing thumb flicked across a stiff nipple.

"Doesn't matter." _Back when Pitch was still around._ Jack shook his head and focused on pumping his hips, eyes closing. "You, uh. You think you can make it to the bedroom?"

"No."

_Called it._

"Okay, so. You keep spilling filth and I'll jerk you off too, deal? Not that I don't want you to fuck me, or I don't want to fuck you, _Jesus_ , I mean. Uh."

"Hold on, let me try something."

Hiccup briefly released Jack, who panicked, to sit up and press a hand against his chest when he followed him onto his elbows in protest. Jack's attention was drawn inexorably to the bulge straining against the stupid lacings on Hiccup's leathers. He had teased him when he had arrived earlier in the evening, asking him if he had taken up LARPing in his spare time, but now he couldn't help wondering if the lack of a zipper was worth the way nimble fingers plucked and sifted through cords, freeing him almost benevolently and _Christ_ , was he waxing lyrical about Hiccup pulling his dick out? 

_I'm in so much trouble with this guy_.

Gripping the tight, butter-soft pants covering a thigh, Jack dug his nails in to the sound of soft laughter above when he realized Hiccup wasn't wearing anything beneath.

_And I owe Bunny fifty bucks._

Hiccup straddled Jack's hips and just as he was about to argue that no one was getting fucked dry, he felt leather mold over his dick and Hiccup _blushed_ (illegal, he just had to be when no grown man over twenty ever looked that cute when they did that) as he sank down.

"I have a better idea," he breathed, green eyes hooded under dark lashes as he squeezed the length trapped between his cheeks. _Filthy boy._ His smile turned crookedly playful.

Jack's head hit the lumpy cushions with a _whumph_ when Hiccup started stroking himself off, riding him like a wet dream come to life. It didn't matter that they were still mostly dressed or that they hadn't made it off the couch; the way Hiccup threw back his head as his unrelenting hips canted desperately, gripped one of Jack's hands in his own with fingers tightly laced and _keened_ , God, the way he _waited_ until he felt Jack's thrusts start to buckle and shunt him higher -

" _Jack_ … harder, you need to fuck me h-harder, _just like that_. Oh, Jack — _Jack_ ..."

He came with an abrupt cry that battered out of his chest, the fist in the front of Hiccup's buttoned cardigan dragging him sinuously right over the spurting head of his cock until Jack was empty and gasping, dimly aware of a yelp and wails of relief when Hiccup spattered over the rucked t-shirt Jack wore along with the concave of a mostly bare abdomen. He felt come run down the side of his waist and stain the couch, drip back onto his crotch where leather pants hadn't absorbed anything.

Hiccup leaned down to nestle into Jack's neck where they languished in the afterglow for two or three minutes of timeless bliss. A kiss found his parted lips, gone too quickly for him to return it, and the weight shifted as Hiccup creakily sat up to retrieve his fake foot. 

"I'm going to clean up in the bathroom," he said, a lovely contented purr underscoring his voice that made Jack smile stupidly at a freckled profile. "You want some tissue?"

"Mmm." 

"Okay, Romeo. Don't get up or anything."

Honestly, Jack would have agreed to pretty much anything. The cooling mess didn't bother him, he had always welcomed the cold. That was, he fondly reminisced as Hiccup tossed him a roll of kitchen towels before exiting, one of the primary reasons they had wound up snuggling in the first place. Even Mr. I-Grew-Up-In-Norway had complained when Jack shrugged and said he didn't want to waste money on the heating bill, grumbling all the way under the arm that looped around his shoulders. Then he had looked over at the same time as Jack, kissing had turned distinctly horizontal, one thing led to another … 

"Jack," Hiccup called from the bathroom, sodden where he leaned on the door-frame wearing nothing but a fluffy white towel. Grousing, he gestured emphatically back into the chilly room. "Are you actually aware your shower is _freezing_ with the heating turned off or were you waiting for my confirmation on that?"

"Oops. Better warm you up myself, huh?"

"I'd prefer the hot water, thanks."

Jack laughed.

"Fine, fine. I'll turn it on and _still_ keep you warm."

Hiccup gave a long-suffering sigh and disappeared with a wave. He didn't close the door on his heels, though.

Lazily, Jack mopped himself up in no great hurry, replaying the events of the evening that had led to Hiccup winding up in his lap. Maybe, he contemplated, he should turn the thermostat down in the future, too.

Or just not bother with it ever again.


End file.
